


One Fine Day

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, M/M, Plug and Play, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to Vortex’ recklessness, he and Blast Off are stuck in a situation where there’s no way out…</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Fine Day

**Title:** One Fine Day  
 **Warnings:** angst, slash, smut (of the plug’n’play variety)  
 **Continuity:** G1 (Set after season two, but before the movie)  
 **Characters/Pairing:** Blast Off/Vortex  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
 **Summary:** Due to Vortex’ recklessness, he and Blast Off are stuck in a situation where there’s no way out…  
 **Beta:** [ultharkitty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty) :D

 **Note:** This is part of [ultharkitty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty)’s [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1), but can be read as stand-alone, of course. Not written for a challenge, or anything, just for the purpose of desperate, needy smut… which then developed into some sort of character and relationship study. *lol*

 

 **One Fine Day**

Vortex shot the wall again, but nothing happened. Just like before. And just like before, his communication equipment couldn’t send or receive anything from outside.

His engine revved to a growl, and he looked around, searching for Blast Off.

The room was a square, every wall, the ceiling and floor had the same colour, a pale yellow. Vortex had no idea where the light came from, but the room was bright with no shadows, and the surroundings seemed to glow. He frowned behind his visor.

Blast Off’s dark frame was a contrast to the yellow of the room, so he was easy to locate. Though, Vortex couldn’t really say how far away the shuttle was from him, because the proportions of the room were weird. He couldn’t really measure or scan how big it was, and even with his optical sensors, the distance appeared to change.

He didn’t like it in here.

“Yo, Thrusters. You found a way out?” Vortex said loudly, and his voice resonated through the room. Tipping his head to a side, he could almost see the sound waves…

“Tsk.” Blast Off flew over and landed next to him, his tone blank, with an underlying edge Vortex hadn’t heard before. “I didn’t. There’s no way out.”

“What about your cannons? Guess they could bust through the walls.” Vortex would really like to see Blast Off firing those weapons…

The shuttle merely huffed, shaking his head. He glanced for another moment, before his gaze settled on Vortex. The ‘copter couldn’t say why, but he didn’t feel comfortable.

“Like I said, there is no way out.”

“Great. Then we have to wait till they come and get us? That’ll take ages.”

“No.” Blast Off shook his head anew. “There is also no way in.”

It took several astroseconds before the last statement made sense to Vortex, and when the meaning sank in, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“You say we’re gonna starve in here?”

Blast Off shrugged as he took a step towards the wall and touched the weird material. “No.” He turned again, looking anew at Vortex with that odd expression. “We’re going to die in here in about four breems.”

Vortex just stared. At first, there was disbelief, then it mingled with anger about Blast Off making a stupid joke, but then there was the realisation that Blast Off never made any jokes. Sickness spread from his fuel tank into every limb, and his vision blurred so that he had to reboot his optics.

He didn’t have the chance to respond though, as Blast Off continued. “I told you not to push the button…”

“But…”

Another shrug, and due to Blast Off’s calmness, Vortex began to wonder if he if he really was kidding.

“No ‘but’. It’s like I said. The device is already gathering energy which will be conducted in here…”

Not that this meant anything to Vortex, but he asked anyway. “And then?”

“When it’s gathered enough, we’re dead.”

“As if!” Vortex spat, and turned, shooting once more at the wall, which just seem to absorb his bullets. He growled, then punched the material which was like rubber.

Blast Off only watched. “Calm down.”

“Shut up! And don’t act like you _want_ to die!”

“I never said anything like that.” It was again spoken in his usual flat voice, with the unnerving edge Vortex didn’t understand.

“Frag that!” Kicking the wall now, the glass on his foot creaked, then gave in at the next kick. The sound echoed surreally through the room, and Vortex started kicking with the other foot, punching the material at the same time, but nothing happened.

Neither bullets nor brute force worked, and it made Vortex even angrier.

The cockpit part of his other foot shattered, too, and the fragments which fell on the ground vanished in the rubber matter.

Another growl, and again he raised his hand to hit the material, onlining his weapon systems again. Vortex never fired, though, as a black hand grabbed around his wrist. It happened pretty fast after that. He was spun around, arms were pressed against the wall, rotor blades hit the odd surface, and sensors tried to figure out what material it was. His processor didn’t possess data about anything which was even nearly like this, however, and this uncertainty caused another surge of queasiness. Vortex wasn’t as used to anything so alien as Blast Off might be.

He almost panicked. Only the shuttle’s grip pressing him to the wall, immobilising his arms, and the soothing sensations from the other’s EM field suppressed the dread.

Vents inhaled air heavily, slowly, and optics behind the red visor stared at the purple ones in front of them. Blast Off’s expression was still blank. Where their armour met, Vortex sensed the calm sensations from Blast Off.

He detested it. For him, it was an acceptance of their death. A weakness, giving up fighting. Maybe Blast Off was just a mere civilian after all.

“Calm. Down,” the shuttle said, with his voice flat, and Vortex optics twitched.

“You said _that_ already.” His field flared with anger.

“It’s no use. Do you really want to waste the last moments of your life on punching a wall?”

 _No_ was what Vortex thought, but Blast Off’s behaviour just pushed all buttons of his defiance, and so he answered, “Why not?”

Large intakes vented an amused huff, blowing warm air over his frame, and Vortex’ rotors began quivering without his conscious intent.

“Because, maybe, there’s something else you could use the time for.” Blast Off’s energy field extended, touching Vortex’ plating and seeping under it where the shuttle held him tight.

Vortex clenched his jaw. This was unreal. Blast Off hardly initiated anything of his own, but some of the disbelief and defiance vanished under the pleasurable energy prickling on his frame.

“You’re serious,” Vortex just said, and didn’t mean the invitation.

Blast Off’s tone betrayed the frustration on the face which had to be hidden behind his battle mask. “When am I not?”

Vortex nodded briefly, a few thoughts rushing through his CPU, pondering, fighting the scary facts, before he asked, “Four breems?”

“Now only a bit more than three…”

“May I touch you?”

Time passed which seemed to be an eternity, though Vortex’ chronometer told him it was only 21 astroseconds. Somewhere deep down, Vortex hoped Blast Off would decline his query. It would make the situation less threatening, and the possibility of normality would still be there. They would go on as usual, like they had since forever, and everything in here would just be like the bad feeling of too much fragmented data. That this would be just a usual, good frag to pass the time till their rescue.

But then, eventually, Blast Off tipped his head to a side, and let go of Vortex’ wrists.

Black fingers traced down Vortex’ arms, paying more attention to the elbow joint, and it tickled. The reason for Vortex’ slow, heavy vents changed, and the urge to touch and make use of this chance fought with the unwelcome realisation and meaning of Blast Off giving in so quickly.

“You better make this good!” Vortex said as the urge won and he clutched at Blast Off’s upper arms.

“Tsk,” the shuttle merely huffed, the battle mask retracting and revealing the tiniest smirk. “No talking.”

At least that was still the same…

Vortex couldn’t help but laugh dryly, before he also let his mask withdraw and pulled the other closer.

Their lip plates met, and the kiss was as desperate as their energy signatures grinding against each other. The friction of the fields throbbing, prickling on armour plates when Blast Off pressed Vortex against the wall, and for a moment it was as though his rotor blades were sucked in by the material.

He sighed when Blast Off grabbed his hip plates tightly and forced a foot between his legs. The cannon was activated, humming and vibrating, it made the remaining cockpit glass clink, intensifying the sensations of the damage. The rotors’ quivering increased at the knowledge of what Blast Off’s weapon could do to him if he’d shoot upright through his spine, and Vortex’ sighing turned into a first needy moan.

Tense fingers around the shuttle’s upper arms relaxed and stroked down to the heat shields. Vortex didn’t remember the last time Blast Off had allowed him to touch the strong plating that freely, and frankly, the ‘copter didn’t really care as long as he could do it now. He caressed the leading edge of the shield teasingly, let his energy field flare stronger at his hands so that it seeped under the plating and tickled on the sensitive parts below.

And he drunk in Blast Off’s reaction.

The strong shuttle engine revved, the energy field extended and arousal was clear in it. On Vortex’ hips, two fingers dug into the joint, squeezing the cables there while the other hand found its way to his interface panel. Pressed flat onto it, the charge of the shuttle’s field was transmitted right into the hardware, causing an intense surge of pleasure all over his sensor net.

Vortex gasped into the kiss. Torn between establishing the connection and waiting, enjoying more teasing, he decided that Blast Off could take care of that while he got back to exploring the other’s plating.

And apparently, Blast Off decided to tease Vortex a little longer. He knew it when the hand on the panel slid further down to his aft, and the other squeezed one of Vortex’ rotor blades.

Sensor nodes lit up under the touch - sometimes firm and rough, sometimes only a teasingly light pressure which left room for imagining what was about to happen, and Vortex shuddered. He returned the attention equally; caressing, tracing, squeezing, clutching at armour plates, the cables and circuitry beneath.

Blast Off’s trembling under his fingers was as arousing as the other’s hands on him. The charge of energy fields buzzed, mingled with the pleasure of revving engines and pulsed hard, gathering behind the hatch of his interface panel. It was a wonderful ache, triggering an impatience Vortex tried to fight, but failed.

The urge crept into his energy signature, and if Blast Off hadn’t noticed it there, Vortex scratching on the shuttle’s interface panel would have been obvious enough.

Blast Off huffed amused, the vocaliser producing a deep, low laugh which reverberated into Vortex. He moaned, and his whole body arched, pushed off the wall and closer to the other.

No more teasing, Vortex wanted the connection _now_.

But Blast Off reached for Vortex’ wrists, pinning them next to his head, and the new display of dominance was the final straw for his interface panel to open automatically.

Vortex groaned, then smirked against Blast Off’s lips. “You said I could touch you.”

He could feel the shuttle grinning back. “Never said that.”

His laugh was dampened by another demanding kiss. A glossa invading his mouth and denta almost clicking together as one of Vortex’ hands was freed again and Blast Off fumbled for the cables.

“Frag yes,” Vortex gasped when the connectors clicked in place and the first wave of pleasurable charge flooded his sensors. The synchronisation of the activated gestalt program was over too soon, and just like all the times before only remained in the background of Vortex’ CPU as an underlying clocking code.

He let out a needy whimper, wrapping his arm around Blast Off’s neck and winding his legs around the shuttle’s waist.

Blast Off moaned into the kiss, pressing even closer, and it was as though he’d crush Vortex between him and the wall while hard vibrations throbbed through the ‘copter and a hand under his aft stabilised him, gripping tight.

Their ventilation worked frantically, loudly, and mingled with the noises of Vortex’ vocaliser. Blast Off gasped now and then at more intense surges of electricity which Vortex sent through the interface, and Sigma; this all was good.

Vortex clutched at the shuttle’s plating, his other hand clenched to a fist, and he tensed even more when the next rush of bliss made his sensors glow. His rotors clattered against the wall as they felt like melting and so very hot inside; the broken cockpit glass suddenly burnt like acid and altogether it caused his intakes to stutter. He threw his head back, his visor brightening.

“You wanted this to be good…” Blast Off breathed near his audio sensor, but Vortex didn’t answer and only pressed their lip plates together again.

 _Slag yes_ , this was so very good, and it would be even better if they accessed each other’s’ sensor nets, Vortex thought in back of his pleasure-clouded processor, but he neither asked nor pinged Blast Off for that. In his CPU had formed another idea, however, and he broke the kiss. Biting his lower lip once, he vented deeply before he transmitted his question through the connection.

He didn’t dare to speak it out, and only rasped in a static-laden voice, rough from arousal and charge, “Thrusters?"

Another moment in which the time seemed to stretch to an eternity.

Hesitation was written in every detail of Blast Off’s body. The energy flow stopped for an instant, the grip around Vortex’ aft tightened, and even in the shuttle’s energy signature the reluctance was clearly readable. This all dissolved, however, when Vortex felt it through the connection as Blast Off initiated the command and opened the gestalt bond.

The impact was immediate. New information overran Vortex’ processor, and at first it was only data, before it settled, and the realisation set in.

If Blast Off of all mechs gave in and opened the gestalt link, they _would_ be dead in a few kliks…

His own anxiety about dying mingled with Blast Off’s at the closeness of the open bond, and queasiness spread again, before everything vanished under the concentrated pleasure of physical sensations.

Two sensor nets overlying each other, it was a gloriously hot inundation. For a moment it was like overloading, but the charge hadn’t reached its peak yet. It prickled and pulsed on Vortex’ own sensors while the phantom sensations of Blast Off’s became more real the longer the bond was open. Vortex couldn’t say how and where the energy and data flow came from when he could hardly discern his own body from the shuttle’s.

Wings on feet tingled with pleasure as vibrations from humming canons travelled along the sensitive plating, and cockpit glass burnt painfully. Where the EM field dug under the heat shield, it caused restlessness in arms as the bliss trailed along energon lines, over circuits and offline scanners which were nonetheless sensitive. Vortex’ fingers twitched at that, and he felt Blast Off feeling him gripping tightly at the shuttle’s metal.

They both moaned, and it was so arousing to hear Blast Off that loudly.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and everything Vortex wanted. He knew an astrosecond before it happened that Blast Off’s legs would give in, and he groaned again when the friction of rotor blades scraping down the wall caused the charge to rise even more.

Blast Off kneeled, Vortex on his lap, crushed between the loud shuttle engine and the wall. Vortex knew Blast Off hadn’t expected anything like this. He knew the shuttle tried to regain some composure, and he knew he failed. Vortex sensed the other giving up, and giving in to the charge and sensations, because it didn’t matter when this was the last time anyway…

And again that hint to a thought Vortex didn’t want to spend time on thinking, wanting to ignore it, and telling himself he did, even if it wasn’t true.

Another needy whimper. No, a desperate whimpering when Vortex pressed their lips together anew. But it wasn’t a kiss, helpless moans and whimpered nonsense words didn’t allow a real one and only trembling plates touching briefly before parting again.

Blast Off’s optics dimmed and brightened in pace with the waves of delight, and, oh frag, seeing and hearing Blast Off like that was reason alone to overload immediately.

Vortex didn’t, however.

He clung onto the pre-overload intensity of sensations as hard as he clutched with his whole body to Blast Off.

 _Not yet. Not yet. Not yet,_ a thought repeating in an endless loop when every other coherency was lost already and Vortex wasn’t even sure if it was him thinking.

The metal at his wrist yielded under the pressure of Blast Off’s fingers, and cables responsible for transporting commands and impulses were pinched. It disrupted the signal flow and caused a hot, sharp pain in his lower arm, intensifying there with the charge and spreading down to his spine. Sensor nodes along the cable reacted, were set aflame.

Vortex squirmed, arched his back at the pain; Blast Off moaned. Pleasure mingled with pain mingled with the stinging charge mingled with the false sensation of melting rotor blades and failing equilibrium.

Overload hit hard. Vortex imagined this was how it would have felt like if he’d been hit by Blast Off’s canon - hot, piercing sensations on every sensor, his visual feed shutting down, hallucinated sounds and echoes ringing in his audials and wiping away the very last bit of coherent thought.

If there existed a very opposite of the Detention Centre, than it had to be this.

Vortex remained in the blissful cloud for a time which was over too soon. He whimpered, and didn’t realise how much he was trembling. Not before the echo of Blast Off’s climax flooded him; or maybe it was the echo of his own, only coming back to him from Blast Off systems, or… he didn’t know. He did stop thinking again, however, and weak limbs still clasped around the shuttle, trying to get as much out of this as possible…

\---

Vortex refused to come back down to reality and rather indulged himself in the post-overload tickles and data pings. They hadn’t moved, only Blast Off’s hand had slid down, resting at the ‘copter’s hip, like the shuttle’s forehead on his shoulder, his optics were offline.

Vortex still sat on Blast Off’s legs, one arm around the other’s neck while the other lazily traced over the rim of the heat shield. He felt the tingling, too, though it was odd to feel sensations at places his body didn’t possess.

This had been even better than accessing another sensor net, Vortex mused, and his vents heaved a sigh.

Surprisingly enough, Blast Off kept the bond open. Data of the shuttle’s physical state and the progress of cooling his frame with the cooling system intended for re-entry were just things Vortex _knew_. And not only this, next to the data, there were indications of the other’s mood and hints to train of thought that Vortex couldn’t grab or understand.

Blast Off was calm. The heated frame pinged now and then when under it coolant flowed by, and Vortex realised Blast Off liked this contrast. And so did he. It was another phantom sense, it was ticklish at his back and made his rotor blades quiver.

The shuttle’s soothing state of mind invaded Vortex as well, and for once he was quite content without talking or more touching. He sighed and put his chin on Blast Off’s helm.

“Hmmm…” Some discontent came along with the quiet grumbling, but Vortex just grinned.

For a moment, it was good how it was; and it could have stayed a little while longer that way, but unfortunately, reality punched Vortex in the face as a whirring sounded.

It crackled in the large room, and Vortex tensed, optics roving around, searching for the source of the noise. He didn’t find it, but that was no reason to relax.

The corners of the room began glowing even more, becoming brighter before a bluish light emerged from them and eight rays met in the middle.

 _It begins…_ , it was a sentiment that Vortex didn’t know which one of them had thought. Maybe it was only a knowing anticipation of something he pretended to have forgotten about.

The dread came back, and replaced the noise, which had vanished. Only a low pulsing sound remained, coming from the middle, and seemed even more threatening than everything before.

Vortex hindered his intakes from hitching as he stared at the whirling light of changing colours. It wasn’t close, but still too near, and he hardly noticed his fingers clenching to a fist.

“How long?” he eventually asked, his voice still hoarse from the charge.

Blast Off didn’t answer. Not verbally, but Vortex knew he did something. Data was sent through the interface, and he shivered at the sensation. Then, a timer popped up in his HUD.

Vortex wished he hadn’t asked. Focusing on the numbers counting down, he tensed even more. His tank felt like purging and his rotors were utterly still. He didn’t want to know the time, the exact klik and astrosecond. Struggling not to transmit any of this through the interface or gestalt bond, Vortex deleted the timer.

“I didn’t want to know that exactly…” Vortex muttered grumpily, and hot air from Blast Off’s intakes rushed over Vortex’ plating as the shuttle huffed.

“You asked.” The tone was low, staticky, and reverberated through Vortex’ CPU and body.

He didn’t know if Blast Off got any hint to his changed state, but if he did, he didn’t show it. Vortex hoped it’d stay that way. He wanted to have the bond open. He didn’t want to die alone.

The grip of his legs around Blast Off tightened and cramped along with the rest of his body.

Vortex didn’t want to die.

“How will it happen?”

Another question Vortex didn’t truly want an answer for, but Blast Off replied, with his unimpressed voice. “It’s an anti-matter generator.”

This didn’t mean anything to Vortex, and probably Blast Off knew or sensed it, because he carried on. “It generates matter which is the opposite of the matter we’re made of. If anti-matter and matter clash, they’ll dissolve in pure energy…”

“It’s gonna be a quick death?”

Blast Off nodded briefly under Vortex’ chin, and turned his head enough to have a look at the middle, where rays met and created a glowing ball of light. There were whirls and tiny explosions in different colours, and Vortex was disappointed. A quick death with no chance of a second overload…

“If this is any satisfaction for you, when the anti-matter clashes with the air and us, the energy produced will be enough to destroy the whole planet.”

“So at least we’re going down with a big bang…” Vortex laughed, but even for him it didn’t sound true. It did nothing to counter his fear. And slag, he _was_ frightened.

If he could, Vortex would run, and fly, and fight, but none of that would help, and he only could face a useless, pathetic death.

He felt miserable and sick.

Unlike Blast Off.

When Vortex focused on the shuttle to distract from his own chaotic mind, there was only contentment. Calm sensations through the interface, over the bond and even in the energy signature. This, and something more. Nostalgia maybe, or melancholy, and awe of the things happening in the middle of the room.

Confusion mixed with fear and frustration and Vortex mumbled, “You’re not scared…”

“No. Why should I be?”

“We’re gonna die.”

“It was a good life.”

“…I don’t get you.”

“You never did.”

Vortex kept silent.

He had nothing more to say.

Instead, he concentrated on the last post overload tingles, and clenched his fist so tight it dented the metal of his fingers. The pain was good, distracting from the ever growing light in the room. He wanted to shut down his optics, but he didn’t.

Vortex didn’t know, but guessed it was Blast Off’s influence, giving him an insight into the beauty of the whirling light…

Just one more klik, maybe two, Vortex wasn’t sure and didn’t want to ask again. He made up his own countdown, and the waiting was driving him insane.

Then, a sound sliced through the tension; a thud of metal meeting the rubber-like floor, and Vortex glanced up.

“There you are,” Skywarp said, and looked at them. Raising an optical ridge, he reached towards their shoulders and muttered. “I ain’t gonna ask…”

Over the bond, Vortex felt Blast Off’s confusion which quickly turned into annoyance; then the bond was closed again.

And with the space around them shifting and changing, the last post-overload sensations were replaced with the sickening feeling of teleportation.

The seeker warped them out.


End file.
